Predatel'stvo
by Sunahu
Summary: Before he was the Darkling, he was just a boy. Before he denounced his name, he had a dream. Before he knew greed, he knew betrayal. Darkness never dies, but how is it born? My take on the Darkling before the series. Will serve as a prequel/companion of sorts to my other story; Doveryat'.
1. Part I

**R&R**

* * *

**Predatel'stvo**

**A Grisha Trilogy Fanfiction**

**A/N:** Alright, so I've been wrestling myself with this for a long, long time.

Like everyone else, I'm sure we've all been speculating on the Darkling's past, and the only reason I'm dying for the third book is to know what the hell happened to the Darkling when he became the Black Heretic. And part of the reason I was/am so hesitant with the direction Doveryat' is taking is because I rather know the Darkling's past so I can tie it into in future chapters.

Still I kept asking myself, what would make the Darkling so greedy for power, but still manage to show a side that seems to want to help the Grisha more than anything, to overthrow the king so badly and put Ravka through hell for centuries.

So although I think it's a little cliche, I chose to go this route, which in a way complements my other story. While Doveryat' focuses on trust, this one is all about betrayal. Which sets a nice backstory for the Darkling and Alina's relationship.

There is soo much I want to say about this short little attempt on making a past for the Darkling, but I feel it would end up being longer than the story itself.

I really wasn't sure whether I should post it or not, but I figured it would be a waste of a plot bunny if I didn't. Whatever the true story of the Darkling, I wanna take a crack at my own, and like I said, at least it would work well alongside my other fic and where I wanna go with it.

* * *

**Part I**

He is born like any other. A large head upon a small body, four limbs connected to five small digits each, a patch of dark hair on his head. His cry joins the pained gasps of his mother before he is placed in her arms, wrapped in several layers of wool.

Although he does not realize it, he is born in the ideal place for his kind.

And it isn't long before his powers manifest, earlier than any before him.

_Merzost_, they call him.

Abomination.

He hears them as whispers behind his back, in the way the kids his age shy away from him and laugh when they think he can't hear, in the apprehension that reflects in the gaze of the adults when they regard him.

"Don't pay them any mind," his mother says, "You are gifted, my sweet magical child."

He is young, but he is smarter than most. He doesn't need her words of reassurance. He understands their fear, why they stay away. He has power, power that they do not. Power that makes him unpredictable, fearful.

But he finds comfort in the darkness. It is an extension of him, his earliest companion. He summons tendrils of shadow and wraps them around flowers and stones, blades of grass and even trees.

This power is rare, which makes him all the more unpredictable. His mother shares this power, but she hides it, to maintain her place as a servant of the castle, to give her son a good living.

But not him.

He embraces his power, and makes a silent promise to be better than his mother. He refuses to be cast aside, to be treated as nothing more than the dirt they walk on.

No. Not him.

So when the young prince of the palace extends the olive branch, he is surprised.

"Let's be friends," he says, "Life in the castle can be dull, you look like you could make things interesting."

Friendship was the last thing he expected from someone of royal descent. It is a foreign concept, but one he learns to cherish.

Soon his shadow is joined by another, as they make the vast lands and gardens of the palace theirs. It is their battle grounds, where they make their imaginary army conquer land after land, where they search for creatures of myth and lore. They battle giants and dragons, Fjerdans and Shu Han.

But sometimes, they battle each other.

"You can be the evil sorcerer," says the young prince.

The dark haired boy isn't bothered by this declaration, and he only hardens his gaze and summons his shadows. If it is a villain he wants, a villain he'll get.

When the young prince runs home frightened, his only fear is that he'll be reprimanded. For three days he awaits the inevitable punishment, perhaps even banishment from the King and Queen.

Instead, on the fourth day, the young prince returns, chin high as he asks to see his powers again. This time, he won't back down.

The dark haired boy welcomes the challenge.

When the young prince begins the lessons that will teach him to be king, he chooses to evade his tutors and find him instead. It is only when he brings along his books that he learns of theory, philosophy, mathematics, and politics. He takes to it like a fish takes to swimming and a bird takes to flying.

And others take notice.

No longer is he merely _merzost_, but a _chudonyi _instead. A prodigy. Some are weary, others are thrilled. But he has the young prince on his side, and none dare act on any malevolent thoughts.

When the young prince is given his first sword, he too receives one. They become sparring partners, and it soon becomes obvious who the better swordsman is.

The young prince shrugs off the countless defeats, knowing in his heart that he is still the one with the power. After all, it is _he_ that will rule Ravka as king, not the dark haired boy he took pity on and now calls friend.

As they become young men, their differences become obvious.

The young prince is thin, tall, with a weak chin and beady eyes. He has a love for beautiful women, the arts, and fine wing and _kvas_. He is charismatic, charming, and has an obvious passion for war and strategy.

Many take notice of the dark haired boy as well. He grows into a handsome man, with thick dark hair, sharp quartz eyes, and a chiseled jaw. The young girls who once laughed behind his back now whisper and giggle for different reasons as he passes. But it is more than that. He is smart, a prodigy in all matters. It is why when the young prince enlists into the military to do his service, he follows as well.

The dark haired young man flourishes, and quickly rises in the ranks.

He learns the art of deception and striking fear into his enemies and allies a like. Where his power once turned those against him, it now gives him power over his enemies. He earns respect among the men, and soon, only his enemies call him _merzost._

And it is while serving that it hits him.

A way to give others like him a place in Ravka, a place that doesn't place them below everyone else. They could be equal, if not more. He keeps the idea to himself at first, his sharp mind molding it into something tangible, something probable. He bides his time, searches for good candidates, and watches for an opportunity.

When an opportunity presents itself, he snatches for it.

No longer are they _merzost_, but soldiers. It is only a few in the beginning. A band of enlisted soldiers he gathered in his squad. But they prove that there is more to their powers than previously thought. They become weapons that were always feared, but now they are pointed at their enemies.

Not everyone is eager to accept them, but the young prince knows better. He grasps for the weapons that they can become. Weapons that he can control.

_Grisha_, they become.

"A second army…" says the young prince, placing a firm hand on the shoulder of the dark-haired man, "and you, my friend, can be their leader."

The dark haired man knows better, but accepts his victory with pride. Soon they will seek out other Grisha, and teach them to hone their powers. No longer will they be treated as lesser beings, no longer would they be swept away and forgotten.

No longer.

The era of the Second Army would begin, and the Grisha would rise.

The two young friends are in their prime and on their way to accomplish their dreams.

One will soon claim his title as King, and rule Ravka as his father and grandfather and great-grandfather before him.

The other will make a name of himself, earn the respect of those who once shunned him, and pave the way for those like him into a new and better era.

They are content.

Until one day, _she_ arrives.

A sun summoner.

Like the dark haired young man, she is rare among their kind.

But unlike him, she is looked upon like a gem, rare and valuable as she shines brighter than anything anyone has ever seen.

She is from a highly respected noble family, and perhaps that is why she is more easily accepted than most. But her powers are not the only thing that makes her shine among the people, it is her beauty as well. Her brown locks and amber eyes leave men breathless and women green with envy. The confidence in her walk and bounce in her step would make anyone pause in their actions to take a better look at her.

When she arrives at the castle, it is nothing more than a social visit from her family for a few weeks.

But the young prince needs but one look to be taken by her, to know that this is the woman to be his queen.

The dark haired young man takes notice as well, fascinated by her power and captivated by her beauty. Never before has he taken a fancy to a woman before, but there is something about her. Something that draws him to her.

And she feels the same.

"It is our nature," she says one night, her hand searching for his and turning it so his open palm faces her own.

Shadows seep from his palm, and light from hers. The two forces dance with each other, entwining and twisting to a song only they can hear.

And it is beautiful.

As their lips touch, as their hands caress flesh and muscle, as they explore each other for the first time, giving in to the desire that every man and woman must at one point do, they do not see the angry and envious eyes that gaze upon them.

The young prince watches on with disdain in his eyes, and a promise of pain in their future.

* * *

**A/N:** Dun dun dunnn.

Is this worth continuing?


	2. Part II

**R&R**

* * *

**Predatel'stvo**

**A Grisha Trilogy Fanfiction**

**A/N:** Wow! I was honestly surprised by the feedback I got from you guys. I guess I expected less considering I was introducing an OC and such. Still, I finally got the chance to write some more, and there's still maybe one or two chapters left of this. It's definately going to be short, because it's not meant to be a full fledged story. Depending on how much you guys like my own Sun Summoner, maybe I will make more. Either way, here's the next installment!

* * *

**Part II**

Like him, she is born unaware of her fate.

But unlike him, she is born to a world of luxury and privilege. From the moment of her birth, she is wrapped in the finest of cloth and her crib is adorned with a layer of gold and diamonds. Several nursery maids attend to her every cry and discomfort, and never is there anything that she cannot have.

She is the first of and only child of one of the most prominent and influential families in all of Ravka after all, one of the most powerful and respected.

But she cares little for this.

She craves the affection of her distant mother and father, too occupied in their affairs to remember the child they brought into the world is as human as they are. A child who craves love and ignorance of the world beyond her home.

And as she grows, she feels it like a weight upon her small shoulders, a burden she cannot escape.

Her fate is never in her hands, not when every decision made is for the benefit of her family name, not when her very existence is not her own. Lesson after lesson is drilled into her, all manners of etiquette, politics, philosophy, dance, and music. Everything she will need to be the perfect wife for the perfect noble worthy of their fortune.

But even in the cage that is her home, she manages to find solitude.

She finds it in the gardens, the only luxury she thanks the saints for every day during her morning walk. She finds it in the beauty of the flowers around her, the delicate petals and strong green stems. She finds it in the sturdiness of the tree trunks, in the cool shade the leaves they provide. She finds it in the gentle caress of the breeze against her skin.

It is when she is among nature that she is most at peace, when she is away from the responsibilities of her cage. She lays on the coarse green grass that manages to feel more comforting than the mattress worth more than a peasant's home in her chamber. And although she is sure she will be reprimanded for staining her beautiful clothing with pollen and sap, she rolls in the grass and climbs the trees anyway.

She makes friends with the children of the servants, and wins their hearts in a way only a kind and warm person can.

They play in secret, when her parents are away and she is lady of the manor. It becomes their playground, as the laughter of children and patting of feet fills the halls, and the warm and appreciative smiles of the parents gaze upon them in their fun.

And it is on a day like this that she discovers her powers.

She is unprepared for what happens.

As the door closes behind her and darkness engulfs her, fear seizes her heart. Her eyes widen as her hands search for the knob, and panic courses through her system when the door doesn't open. Her hearts pounds along with her fists as she calls for help, yet no one seems to hear. Her breaths become short and shallow, and her body begins to shake.

In the darkness that surround her, she hears a sound behind her, a rustling that makes her jump and pound of the door harder.

But still no one comes.

The panic she felt increases tenfold, and tears escape her eyes as she begins to sob.

_I'm scared_, she thinks, over and over again like a mantra in her head. Before long she begins to mutter it aloud as tears continue to fall down her face and she slides down onto the floor. She wraps her arms around her legs as she tries to curl into herself as much as possible.

Another sound, and she whimpers.

She can feel something there, she can feel something getting closer.

Her eyes widen and her heart leaps to her throat.

"No! Stop!" she cries out, her hands rising up as if to stop the assailant.

She feels it then. Something from within her, something warm and comforting as it surges forth at her command.

Then there is light.

Her eyes widen as the rays appear from her hands and the darkness that once consumed her is pushed back as the room is illuminated in a golden glow. Even in her surprise, her eyes quickly scan the room for the monstrous creature she had expected, yet it is not there.

_Just my imagination… _she thinks, and relief floods her system.

She laughs then, the fear and panic that previously consumed her already forgotten as she chastises herself for her foolishness.

"So that is the power of darkness…" she thinks aloud, the rays of light still extending from her hands.

The thought sticks with her more so than this newfound ability of hers. She thinks about it long and hard as she retracts the rays of light to a comforting glow around her. She thinks about it until she hears the calls of her name hours later, and when the door is opened, she gives the servants and their children a toothy grin as they fuss over her.

She has had enough lessons to know of her abilities, of what is done to those like her in many places, and she is old enough to be confident in her decision to keep this power to herself.

After all, it is the first decision that she is able to control. For the first time, she feels as if she has chosen her own fate, one that is not done for the sake of her family name. This is her own little secret, a comforting one at that.

She summons the light whenever she can, cherishing the security that it brings her when she does. She wonders how such an ability that can bring such comfort is a bad thing, how people can see them as witches and monsters.

It saddens her every time.

As she grows into a beautiful young woman, she holds onto this feeling. She uses her fortune to give to those less fortunate than her. She visits churches and orphanages regularly, always bringing food and clothing to be given out. She plays with the children and laughs with the adults.

And she is loved by the common people.

She prefers this to the stuffy dinners and parties that other prominent families host. Gatherings that she must attend with her parents, where she constantly feels scrutinized with cold eyes and fake smiles. It is this that drains her of her energy like nothing else.

But she needs only to summon her light to feel re-energized, to feel the stress and fatigue slip away as it is replaced with comfort and security. And she is grateful for it.

And it isn't long before she hears of Ravka's newest development.

_The Darkling_, they call him.

Someone like her.

A soldier in the army of the King, a soldier that has gathered others like him and created a band of soldiers that use their powers to fight their enemies. They have made great gains for Ravka in the border conflicts, and the Prince himself is supporting their regime. Many are weary, but she feels differently.

Grisha.

_Grisha_.

The word sends a surge of hope through her system. A surge of comfort and security that only her powers had ever been able to make her feel. Could it be possible? Could the era of oppression and neglect for those like her be taking a different turn? Could it be possible that they could be accepted?

It isn't long before she comes forth with her own powers, choosing to take hold of her fate once more. If the so called Darkling is making gains for those like them, then she too should contribute to their advancement.

Her family is shocked, while her longtime servants and friends are only awed.

Sun summoner, they call her.

She is aware that she is not the first, and she also knows that her power is rare.

She chooses to travel throughout Ravka, encouraging those like her to go forth and be not afraid to take the opportunity presented by the Kingdom. Chances like these come rare after all. It is better to seize it sooner rather than later, and pave the wave for future generations so that no children who are born with their abilities will ever have to be afraid again.

Before long, her reputation precedes her.

So when she receives an invitation from the King and Queen themselves, she is not surprised.

She expects nothing more than a social and political visit, but what she receives is far from what she bargained for.

From the moment her gaze locks onto him, and his onto hers, she knows something fundamental has changed.

She has respected him from afar yes, but the way her heart skips a beat in his presence stems far from the admiration and gratitude she has for him and what he has done. It is more than his sharp eyes and chiseled jaw, his thick black hair and confident posture. She tries to ignore this foreign feeling, to push it back and focus on the task at hand and the progress she hopes to make.

But when they accidentally come across each other on one of her walks through the many gardens of the palace, it is hard to ignore the pull they feel. They gaze at each other and fidget as if they were still only children, shy and unsure of what to say. Having been tailored in the manner of conversation, never before had they ever had trouble speaking.

It is different with each other.

This pull is different, something that creates an unusual ache. It confuses them and makes them forget who they are for that moment.

Until finally he speaks.

"I hear I should thank you," he says, finally composing himself as he stares at her with an easy smile on his face.

She feels the heat rush to her face and she tries to get hold of herself in his presence.

"Why is that, Moi Soverennyi?" this title is new, she knows, and she is pleased when he looks taken aback. Why, she does not know.

"It appears the large surge in those that have come forth to join the Second Army is thanks to you," he replies smoothly, his composure once more in place.

She decides that she wants to see this composure break, that she wants to see who he is behind the stoic barrier of his new found title and the reputation he must preserve. But now is not the time. She smiles at him, and folds her hands together in front of her.

"Your gratitude is unnecessary I'm afraid. It is you that should be thanked. After all, without your actions I would never have had the courage to do what I am doing now," she replies as she looks at him, her gaze reflecting such warmth and sincerity that it almost enough to make him feel uneasy at just how foreign such a look is. No one has ever looked at him like that. With so much respect and gratitude.

He shakes his head to forcefully break her powerful gaze.

"Regardless…" and with that single word, he surprises her as he kneels on one knee and takes hold of her hand gently.

She has to hold back a gasp as a sharp surge of power flows through her as she watches him bring her hand towards him until her hand is but a breath away from his lips.

Her amber gaze locks onto his sharp quartz eyes, and it is almost as if she forgets how to breathe.

"Thank you," he says.

And as his lips touch her delicate skin, they both know that they want more.

* * *

**A/N:** Fluff and tragedy in the making! Review if you liked, and thank you to those who reviewed the last chapter :)


End file.
